<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>New Father by violentzsz</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865226">New Father</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentzsz/pseuds/violentzsz'>violentzsz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blasphemous (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:09:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentzsz/pseuds/violentzsz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The resemblance was uncanny.<br/>For the ways of the Miracle repeat themselves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>New Father</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As he became older, he saw it. By the time he was a teenager, he could look into the reflection of the dreary pond by his mother‘s home and see the resemblance, and fear overtook him. Whether this was a blessing or a curse, he could not be sure, but his mind raced with thoughts of the Lady of the Charred Visage, and he wept, guilt clutching his young, innocent heart. Before the end of the week he had packed what little belongings would serve him well and kissed his mother goodbye, and she waved to him as he departed, pride and sadness in her soul that her son would pay penance as a Brother of the Silent Sorrow.</p>
<p>The Brothers were kind, and life on the outside of Albero wasn‘t as bad as he had at one time thought. The silence turned from overbearing to peaceful, and the Brothers spoke amongst themselves with their hands. He did, however, complain to an Elder Brother more than once that he was hearing whispering voices in his chamber at night, but no man had seemed to have broken his vow of silence. The Elder Brother assured him that, had they broken their vows, the Miracle would make quick work of them. </p>
<p>Penance must be paid, he had said with his hands, one way or another. </p>
<p><i>Penance must be paid</i>, the whispers spoke to him in a somber voice, bringing a tear to his tired eye. <i>One way or another</i>.</p>
<p>He wondered if this was his penance then, as he sat, bloodied and beaten, among the butchered bodies of his Brothers. </p>
<p>~</p>
<p>In Albero, things were quiet and gentle. The little town reminded him of the Brotherhood, and the Kissers of Wounds of his Brothers. Although, Tirso and his men were much more talkative.</p>
<p><i>Do not turn back</i>, the whispers were desperate and hungry. Over the years, they had gotten quite loud. <i>Keep marching forward, young penitent. Your reward awaits on the other side of the Dream.</i></p>
<p>He ignored them, barely able to drag his beaten body to the doorstep of the modest building, and knocked lightly on the door. Tirso’s gentle face greeted him, twisted with concern.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear… Come and sit, penitent one in silence.”</p>
<p>He was well aware Tirso and his men were worried senseless over the sick in Albero, but more than once Tirso had chastised him for letting his wounds fester. Most of the time, he brushed off their treatments and instead rested in the lower rooms until he felt ready to move on. This time, however, he had let his wounds fester, and was struck with a fever. </p>
<p>He barely made it through the door before he collapsed in the arms of a young man, who eased him down to lie on a well kept pallet, reclining in his caring arms.</p>
<p>“We must remove your armor,” he said, in a voice as gentle and sweet as his countenance. “Let us.”</p>
<p>Even if he had wanted to object, he was weak and tired, and let his heavy armor be stripped away, until he was in his underclothes, which were worn and drenched in sweat.</p>
<p>Before he drifted off, he felt a hand carting through his hair, and resting on the blesséd and anointed ribbon tying his hair back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he came to, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was aware of chattering and a sweet smelling oil on his skin, and of being held in a gentle grasp and of delicate kisses being placed on his forehead. </p>
<p>He opened his eyes to see the young man, who smiled down at him.</p>
<p>“Merciful be. I was beginning to worry you would sleep forever, and I’d be stuck here underneath you.” The words were playful, and the penitent one pondered on how foreign it sounded to his ears.</p>
<p>He sat up, still leaning heavily on the young man, and saw in the far corner a group of Kissers, washing linens and mixing oils while they chattered quietly, sending sideways glances his way.</p>
<p>He looked to the young man who so worriedly had doted on him, and while the people of Albero did not understand his way of speaking with his hands, the question was evident in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Well, we are all quite astonished by your looks.”</p>
<p>An eyebrow raised in question.</p>
<p>“You bear a remarkable resemblance to the Twisted Father,” the young man said. “It is quite uncanny.”</p>
<p><i>Blessed be the Son of the Miracle</i>, the whispers droned on and on. <i>Blessed be the New Father</i>.</p>
<p>The penitent one gave a tight-lipped smile in return, lied on his back, and pulled the linen bedding over his face.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>